


stuck

by yandereraiden



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Gangbang, Humiliation, Knotting, Other, Size Kink, Stomach Bulge, hole in the wall kink, whatever that's called
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 20:56:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10670613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yandereraiden/pseuds/yandereraiden
Summary: "retrieving" an artifact from noxus lands ezreal in a less than ideal position





	stuck

**Author's Note:**

> written to fill a gaping, clawing need.

Shit. Shit.  _ Shit. _

 

The singular train of thought running through Ezreal’s head was rapidly alternating between “why did I  _ ever  _ consider this a good idea” and a incoherent string of every swear word he knew, muttered under his breath as he ran as fast as his legs could take him.

 

Of course, he already knew the answer to that question. There was nothing that made him throw himself into potentially life-threatening situations with greater regularity than the promise of exciting new gadgets and artifacts to play with, and when he’d heard rumors of a low-ranking Noxian officer who had a large collection and poor security, he’d been powerless to resist the temptation.

 

And now?  _ Now _ he was paying the price.

 

The “poor security”, as it turned out, was actually a small army of hired guns and swords, as the “low ranking officer” wasn’t as poor or as down on the totem pole as Ezreal’s sources had led him to believe. The moment he’d taken the small statuette off of its pedestal, he’d tripped some sort of light barrier, one he’d had no ability to see, and within a minute, the treasure he’d been in the process of robbi-  _ liberating _ had lured in about twenty of Noxus’ finest. He’d had to use his glove just to get out of the room without being caught, and now it was heavy and useless by his side as he ran as fast as his legs could take him.

 

“Shit,” he muttered again, wincing as a spear whizzed past his head. Yells and whoops were echoing behind him, accompanied by the thundering of footsteps. Ezreal knew he wasn’t the most fit, and his legs weren’t the longest- he couldn’t hope to outrun the mob chasing him. His only hope was to outwit them, and possibly stall long enough for his glove to recharge.

 

With stone wall looming up in front of him, however, that was beginning to seem like a slim possibility. It was too tall for him to climb, but turning would give the people chasing him an opportunity to catch up. Not to mention, he didn’t know the layout of the mansion grounds as well as they did, likely, and Ezreal didn’t want to give his pursuers the chance to flush him into a corner.

 

As it was beginning to dawn on Ezreal that after a lifetime of narrow escapes, he might just die here, he spotted hope. A slim hope, but hope nonetheless- a hole in the grey of the wall, patchy stone that hadn’t been fixed, a spot that looked big enough for him to squeeze through. The crowd chasing him were all larger than him- they’d have to find a way around, which would give him precious time to find a way to slip out of their grasp.

 

With a whoop, Ezreal made a beeline for the hole, pushing himself to run faster even as his lungs seared and legs burned with effort. Safety and freedom were so close he could practically taste them on his tongue, and he almost dove at the crack, shimmying through, squeezing his shoulders together as the rough rock scraped at his skin. It hurt, but he was almost there- almost- almost-

 

…

 

He was stuck. He’d gotten the top half of his body through just fine, but he was trapped in place by his hips and one arm. Ezreal’s eyes widened, and panic started to set in as he flailed desperately, trying to free himself.

 

“No,” he cried out, “no, no, no, no,  _ not like this.” _ If he died here and now, because  _ his hips were too wide, _ he was going to… He didn’t know, but it would be terrible. Unbelievably embarrassing. 

 

Also, he’d be dead. That would be unfortunate.

 

He thrashed around, feeling his clothing and skin both shredding, blood soaking his pants, but it wasn’t enough to free him. Eventually, he went limp, tears pricking in his eyes as he accepted his fate. He was going to fucking die stuck in a wall.

 

It was about then that he realized there was something touching his ass. 

 

Ezreal’s brow wrinkled as he registered the sensation. Heavy, warm, lightly gripping him… a human hand, resting on his backside. It wasn’t moving at all, still and unsettling against him, and instinctively, Ezreal craned his head around, trying to get a look at whoever was touching him. 

 

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t see anything but stone. He tried calling out, hoping maybe the person on the other side of the wall might take pity on him after such a pathetic escape attempt.

 

“Hello,” he said. “I’ve, ah. I’ve gotten myself a little stuck. Do you think you could help me out? Give me a pull back your way?”

 

He didn’t know if the person on the other side of the wall heard him. All Ezreal knew was in the next five seconds, the number of hands on him increased from one to five- two on his ass, two on his waist, and one on more  _ sensitive  _ parts of him, and the nature of the touches had changed from simply resting on him to full-on groping. He yelped, squirming, and tried to kick at whoever was molesting him, and his ankles were grabbed almost immediately, pulled apart by what was likely two separate people.

 

“Let- go- of- me!” He screamed, thrashing harder in an attempt to fight off his assailants, but the threat of something cold and sharp pressing against his spine stilled him. The Noxians weren’t messing around- his only two choices were to die slowly and painfully, or let them do… whatever it was they were planning on doing. 

 

Ezreal gulped.

 

His pants were made quick work of, knife slicing through belts and fabric alike. His underwear were next, torn unceremoniously from his body, leaving him shivering in the breeze. Ezreal felt his face heat up, humiliated by the exposure- a feeling that only heightened when a pair of hands grabbed his asscheeks, spreading them wide to expose his hole. Another hand prodded at it, tracing a circle around the ring of muscle, and Ezreal shuddered, feeling like he could vomit.

 

How dare these disgusting criminals think they could put their hands on him? That his body was theirs to defile just because he happened to slip up? It was sick. This city was sick. When a thick finger coated in something cold and slippery pushed into his ass, Ezreal slammed his fist against the wall, tearing up again.

 

The one finger was quickly joined by another. Whoever was touching him clearly wasn’t interested in just fingering him, the sick fuck, and they weren’t interested in being gentle either, spreading his asshole wide with crude scissoring motions that made Ezreal gasp and cry out in pain. Every time his body twitched, legs kicking involuntarily or waist twisting, a hand came down on his asscheek, hard and brutal, and in short order, Ezreal’s ass was as pink and warm as his face.

 

It was painful, it was embarrassing, it was a violation- but the worst was yet to come.

 

When the fingers withdrew, Ezreal drew a brief breath, languishing in his moment of relief before he was grabbed again. This time, the person groped his ass hard, spreading his hole with their thumbs as they pressed something hard, blunt, and wet against it- and shoved in.

 

He’d had sex before. He’d had sex with men before. Nothing he’d experienced previously in his life could have prepared him for the absolute brutality of the way the person behind him fucked him.  Ezreal  _ screamed- _ it felt like he was being ripped apart by the huge cock thrusting in and out of his ill-prepared hole. They didn’t care about his wellbeing, or even his pleasure- to them, he was just a convenient hole for them to shove their filthy, gigantic dick into. Tears flowed freely down his face as his body convulsed, backside only held in place by the hands on his ass and ankles, keeping him still and spread open.

 

“Stop,” he sobbed, not caring if he looked or sounded like a mess. “God, please, stop- I’ll do anything, I promise, I’ll never set foot in Noxus again as long as I live, just-” His body heaved, shoulders shaking with his crying.

 

Despite everything, debasing and humiliating himself even further by crying seemed to do the trick. Buried balls-deep inside of him, the violating cock stopped thrusting, the person behind him going still, before pulling out slowly and steadily. Ezreal breathed a sigh of relief- as disgusting as that had been, at least it had been over quickly. Maybe whoever it was actually felt bad about the rape.

 

Just as he was considering that possibility, he felt something sticky and wet ooze out of him, sliding down his thigh.

 

There was a brief pause in which someone took a knife and drew a white-hot line on his lower back before someone else spread his ass open once again, picking up where the first person had left off. Their cock was thinner than the first, but far longer, and Ezreal felt like his guts were being stuffed with it as he was fucked, brutal thrusts making his assailant’s balls slap stickily against his ass. Their clawed hands dug into the swell of his backside, hard enough to draw blood as the newcomer sloshed around in the cum already inside of him. 

 

Ezreal collapsed forwards, starting to cry once more, mouth hanging open and drool leaking out of it. What stung the most was that there was nothing he could do about the situation- his gauntlet was still useless, and even if he’d brought a weapon, he couldn’t have possibly used it in the position he’d been forced into. All he could do was stand there and take it.

 

The next two hours were absolutely brutal. Ezreal was fucked by almost every type of cock imaginable- long, short, fat, thin, monster cocks with big knots in them that swelled up when the creatures having their way with him dumped their giant loads into his poor, abused ass, slippery tentacle cocks that reached all the way into his intestines, pushing out his stomach until Ezreal thought he was about to throw up. 

 

After every person he serviced came and left, another thin cut was added to those already on his back- tally marks indicating how much of a fuckslut he’d become. He was soaked in cum, bruised, cut, bleeding, and absolutely humiliated. After the first half an hour, he had stopped fighting entirely, body slumping forwards and going limp as it was used and abused. He’d been kicked a few times for that, by whichever rapists had wanted him to be a bit more of a challenge, but Ezreal hadn’t risen to the bait.

 

When his glove finally recharged, he could barely muster the energy needed to focus on a location- only just managing to concentrate hard enough to teleport himself and his bag out of captivity in the wall to a nearby abandoned building. It was dark and damp, but it would be shelter for long enough for him to recover a little from the assault. Hopefully, he could clean himself up a little and find a new pair of pants to wear as he tried to get out of the city.

 

Sore, aching, and absolutely broken, Ezreal curled up on the rotting wood planks, and fell into a fitful, unhappy sleep.


End file.
